


You change, I stay the same

by Leshy



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Disappearing, Gen, Happy Ending?, Kinda, Magical Realism, debatable - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-04
Updated: 2018-01-04
Packaged: 2019-02-28 00:41:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13259988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leshy/pseuds/Leshy
Summary: Jeremy Heere disappears





	You change, I stay the same

**Author's Note:**

> ventventventventventventventventventventventventventventventventventventventventventventventventventventventventventventventventventventventventventventventventventventventventventventventventventventventventventventventventventventventventventventventventventventventventventventventventventventventventventventventventventventventventventventventventventventventventventventventventventvent

The day Jeremy Heere goes missing is so ordinary it’s almost underwhelming. It starts just like any other day. Just one of many. Jeremy waves goodbye to his dad, exits the house, locks the front door. He heads to the bus, or so his dad assumes he does, once he’s out of view. Because that’s what Jeremy always does on school day mornings. It’s routine. And nothing tells his dad that today, of all days, is going to be an exception to this routine. That’s the last his dad sees of him, though he doesn’t know it yet. The morning is quiet. Idyllic, almost, with the gentle rays of sunshine, the few fluffy clouds on an otherwise perfectly blue sky. Bird song from the open kitchen window. A slightly chill morning breeze rustle the curtains on its way in, brining with it the clear crisp scent of the approaching autumn. The leaves haven’t started turning quite yet, only a few having a distinct yellow edge. Summer has dug it’s claws in and is desperately holding on until he very last moment. It is still a little while until the world will be ablaze with the colors of dying embers. Like one last glorious show of life before winter sweeps it all away. Lets it sleep until spring reawakens the world from its slumber. But that comes later. Mr Heere gets up and closes the window. Ties his robe shut against the chill.

Michael doesn’t notice that Jeremy never makes it to school. Not at first. This semesters schedule had irritatingly enough placed them in different classes most of the morning, but the last period before lunch is free for the both of them. They usually meet up in the library to do whatever. Work, nap, play games. It’s a habit. Something that’s been engrained in them since they started it. Once the bell rings, beeline for the library. Settle in. Wait for the other. Michael is usually the first to arrive, since his class is closer, but sometimes he gets held up for various reasons. Not today though. He makes it there in record time. Settles in. Jeremy never shows, even though Michael keeps waiting for him. It’s not the first time Jeremy’s been late. He shoots off a few texts, not really worried yet, but getting there quickly. Jeremy usually doesn’t leave him hanging like this. Not for this long. It happens, sure. But not often enough that Michael can take it in stride. Even if Jeremy was sick he’d tell Michael. He tells Michael everything. Hell, if Jeremy was sick Michael would probably have been receiving texts throughout the whole day, mostly Jeremy begging him to help cause away the boredom. But his phone stays quiet. The last text message he’d received from Jeremy is from last night. Sweet dreams buddy. Written in all caps. His own message is above that one. Sweet dreams dude. Written in all caps. An odd nightly ritual that he doesn’t remember starting, but cherishes all the same. The bell for lunch rings. Michael waits five more minutes, just in case.

“Have any of you heard from Jeremy?” he asks as he settles down at the cafeteria table. There were two empty seats, now there’s one, and the rest of the gang glance at it as they ponder his question.  
“Not since yesterday, no.” Jake says, taking another bite of his half eaten sandwich.   
“What’s up?” Brooke asks, putting down the pocket mirror she’s using to try to blind Rich.  
“I haven’t seen hm all day, and he won’t answer my texts.” Michael explains, pulling his backpack into his lap to dig out his own lunch.  
“Have you tried calling him?” she asks next, skillfully dodging Richs flailing arms as he tries to disarm her.  
“He doesn’t really do phone calls, I’ll try after school if he doesn’t answer I guess.” Michael mumbles, putting his bag back down and opening the wrap he’d bought earlier that day.  
“I’ll text him too, if we blow up his phone maybe he’ll notice!” Christine suggests, smiling brightly at Michael. He leans into her, resting his shoulder against hers. The others make various agreeing noises and take out their phones to text Jeremy.   
“Thanks Chrissy.” Michael says, gratefully. 

The last bell of the day rings out throughout the school building, and kids flood the hallway in their excitement to get the hell out. Michael couldn’t agree more. He’s been on the edge of his seat all day. Jeremy still hasn’t answered. It’s…unusual. Which is why he’s so messed up over it. This doesn’t happen. His life, their lives, are two intertwining lines that follow the same pattern over and over. Day by day. A continuos predictive path that leads them trough life, a road that has looked so similar for so long that this sudden new development has thrown him for a loop. He doesn’t like it. Change is good, sometimes. Change happens for the better, sometimes. This is not one of those times. This has him feeling unsettled. The oh so familiar road, always safe and predictive, is now unrecognizable. Frightening. He can’t see where the road ahead leads, if it leads back to the safe path he knows or if it strays so far away he might never find his way back. Christine bumps her shoulder into his. When he looks up he’s at his locker.  
“Earth to Michael, come in space cadet.” she says, hand in front of her mouth like a walkie-talkie. She lowers it slightly, regarding him with her gentle eyes.  
“Everything alright?” she asks, and he finds it in himself ti smile just a little.  
“Just doing what I do best, worry.” he tells her earnestly. He knows she can see it on him as clear as day anyway. No reason to lie to her. He doesn’t really want to.  
“I’m sure he’s fine. Maybe he just needed a break?” she suggests. And Michael understands what she means, but a quick spike of annoyance surges trough him. Jeremy needed a break from him? And he couldn’t even be bothered to tell Michael even though he knows Michael is a class A worrywart? He stops himself in his tracks. Abandons that train of thought about as quickly as it had arrived. Jeremy must have his reasons. He always does, even if Michael sometimes don’t understand them fully.  
“Maybe.” he mumbles, more to himself than Christine, but she gives him another radiant smile anyway. It settles his frayed nerves just a little, and for that he is grateful.

Michaels phone rings later that evening, and he picks it up without even looking. Already convinced he knows who it is.  
“He-” the greeting isn’t even fully out of his mouth before ehe gets cut off.  
“Michael, is Jeremy at your place?” Mr Heere asks on the other end. The path goes off a cliff and Michaels stomach follows after it. He goes cold in an instant and the worry in Mr Heeres voice only adds to his own.  
“No, he’s not at home?” Michael asks back, and he can feel himself forming the words, but someone else actually says them. It doesn’t sound like him. Nothing feels quite right.  
“I haven’t seen him since he went to school this morning.” Mr Heere says, and Michaels world stops turning. He wants to throw up.  
“He…Jeremy wasn’t at school today.” he feels himself say, but he doesn’t want to. This isn’t real. Can’t be happening. This happens in movies. This happens to other people. His best friend isn’t missing. He can’t be. He can faintly hear the sound of Mr Heeres labored breathing on the other end. He wants to say something, anything, but nothing comes out. His mind has stopped. His room is quiet, the air seems to stand still around him as he grips his phone.  
“I-oh god. I need to call the police.” Mr Heere says, distantly. As if he also isn’t the one speaking on the phone. The line goes quiet, and it takes Michael a moment to realize that Mr Heere had hung up on him. He moves the phone from his ear slowly. Turns his head to look at it. Everything is too slow and too fast al at once. Nothing feels real. Then reality hits him like a freight train. He’s up and out of his desk chair in a second, sprinting out the door and down the stairs in two.   
“Mom!” he shouts, panic in his voice and desperation in his head and fear churning all around inside him so fiercely his legs feel as though they might give out.  
“Michael?” his mom says from the living room. She’s sat in her chair, reading. He stands frozen in the doorway, the words stuck behind hid teeth. The truth tastes like bile.  
“Jeremy’s missing.” he whispers, but she hears him.

They drive to the Heere house, reaching it before the police. His mother tries to console a panicked Mr Heere as they wait. She also calls his other mom, to let her know where they are. She comes there straight after work, and the police finally show up about half an hour after her.   
“Mr Heere, a lot of the time when things like this happen, the kid’s just blowing off steam. He’ll be back before nightfall.” the man assures him, and Michael has never hated someone as intensely and as quickly as he hates him in that moment.   
“No, Jeremy doesn’t do that. He’s too anxious. He’d get scared fast, and come home practically before I knew he was missing.” Mr Heere explains, pleads, but the cop doesn’t seem to listen. His partner, however, raises a brow. Michael notices.  
“It’s true. Jeremy’s talked about it before. Like, he was joking, when he said he would probably get scared and come home before anyone realized he was gone if he ever tried to run away from home, but it’s still true. He wouldn’t just leave.” Michael says, looking at the other policeman.  
“He wouldn’t leave without telling me.” he settles, because this, above all else, is true. Jeremy tells him everything. That’s how they work.  
“We’ll get a search party going, he might have gotten lost somewhere.” the other one says, and it feels important, like they’ve started down the right road to getting Jeremy home. The search party is gathered and spread throughout town within a couple of hours. They look everywhere a kid might end up getting lost. Along the roads, downtown, in the forest. They check the lake at the park and at gas stations. Come morning they’re exhausted and empty handed. Mr Heere files a missing persons report.

At first, it’s something temporary. Something Michael just has to live with for a little while, but with the assurance it’ll go back to normal soon. How soon is soon anyway? A month passes. Jeremys absence still stings like a newly scabbed over wound. It runs deep and is ever present. Noticeable. He asks his moms if they’ll find him. Nothing’s turned up yet, and no news is good news, right? The two share a look and assure him. Soon, they say. How soon is soon? Three months and Michael watches the empty path beside him, the lack of something is so stark against such a bleak backdrop. Like a splash of color is gone from the grey. This path is lonely, but he has to walk it. He cannot see the road ahead. Some days he bleeds, some days he cries and cries and all he wants is for his best friend to be okay. No news is good news. It means there’s still a possibility. They’ll find him. Soon. Five months and Michael feels dried up, shriveled. Jeremy is a phantom limb at his side, aching for the fact that it isn’t there. His friends can see him walking down his path. Down down down, like a spiral. They do their best to pull him along, but he plants his heels in the dirt and stays. He needs to stay, otherwise how will Jeremy know where they’ve gone? He can’t go too far without him, or he’ll get lost. Jeremy is lost. He’ll be found soon. Eight months. Michael needs to find him. He’s out there, somewhere. No news. He has to be somewhere. How far away can one get in eight months? Should they check elsewhere? How soon is soon, anyways? Eleven months and Michael is lost. He’s turned himself around so badly he can’t find the right way anymore. Which way is forward? Where did everyone else go? Did they move on while he wasn’t looking. The path beside him is grown over, forgotten. How did that happen? When he looks up the path is nothing like he remembers it. He has to find his way, soon. How soon?

It’s a year, to the day, and Michael hasn’t been able to breathe since he woke up. Something tore it’s way trough skin and scar tissue and he can’t seem to stem the flow of hurt that washes over him. The other act as if they’re walking on eggshells around him, but it only worsens his mood. He isn't some fragile kid.   
“Mr Heere said we could come by today, if we wanted to.” Christine tells him as he joins them for lunch.   
“Yeah, okay.” he says, and says nothing more. If he says too much he’ll choke on the lack of air. He eats his lunch in silence. The empty chair besides him stays empty. The empty space beside him stays empty. His empty heart. Stays empty. At the end of the day he finds himself outside the Heere house, at the back of the group. He avoids visiting, beaches half his childhood was spent here, but half of his childhood is tinged in blue, red curls and green eyes. Half his childhood is missing. And he won’t find it here, no matter what kind of ghosts haunt the hallways. Mr Heere opens the door in his bathrobe. He lets them in, glances at Michael, then at the others. They head for the living room.   
“How are you guys?” he asks as he settles into the armchair. He picks up the coffee cup from he small side table. Frowns as he finds it’s gone cold.   
“Good. We’re…good.” Christine says. Even her talkativeness ebbs away in this house. The conversation keeps going in this direction. Pointless smalltalk. Michael can’t bring himself to pay any attention to it. His gaze wanders, instead. He finds an echo of his life looking back at him, an odd void where there used to be something. There are shadows of photoframes on the walls, more than before. The house has seemingly doubled in size. 

“I miss him.” Brooke says. It’s the first direct mention of something that has been deemed unmentionable and it strikes Michael like an arrow to the heart. The haze is replaced with hyper focus and it’s all too much.  
“Yeah, me too.” Jake agrees, breaking the fragile peace even further. Something builds in Michaels chest.  
“It seems like forever ago and yesterday at the same time.” Rich says, and Michael can’t keep quiet.   
“He’s not dead!” he yells, and it feels like he’s shattering himself but it doesn’t matter. He needs to make sure they know.   
“Michael-” Christine starts but he can’t let her finish. It might just kill him.  
“No! You’re all sitting around acting as if he’s buried in the ground but he’s not! He’s out there,” Michael says, argues, he1s not sure who he’s arguing with but he can’t stop now. “He’s out there and we need to find him.” he says, sounding like an echo of himself, months and months ago.   
“Michael, don’t do this.” Jenna warns, her eyes are on Mr Heere but Michael doesn’t notice. Doesn’t care.  
“No! We-we need to-” he tries again,   
“He’s dead, Michael.” Mr Heere snaps, voice breaking but firm. That shuts him up. Every word he might have had building in his chest fizzle out into nothing. Steals his breath away. Makes his heart stop. He freezes over, cold dread washing over him in waves. Pulling him under. He can’t catch his breath and the water is overflowing. Running down his cheeks. Silently. Still surface, troubled waters. He can’t take it anymore. He leaves. Says nothing, only turns around and heads for the door. Still so silent. He watches himself go but can’t feel it happening.   
“Michael.” Mr Heere calls, sounding small and lost, but it makes no difference. Mr Heere opens his mouth as if to say something more but Michael closes the front door. Outside The Sun still shines on brightly. The world is lush and green still, even as the threat of autumn hangs in the air. The cold morning has given way to a warm afternoon. Almost as if it’s summer again. Michael watches the few clouds, stretched thin across the sky. He walks off the porch and to his car, opens the door.  
“Michael.” someone says. He turns around half way to see who. Christine is standing on the porch, open door behind her. She looks sad. He gets in the car and backs out of the driveway. 

For the first five minutes he does nothing but drive. Taking random turns and just looking for a way out from the oppressing buildings. He wants open space. Somewhere to breathe. The silence in the car is muffled, and his own head is empty save for his view of Mr Heere repeating those words. The dam breaks and the anger floods back in, filling him to the breaking point. He grips the steering wheel, the faux leather creaking under his paling knuckles. He grits his teeth, tries to keep at bay ever sound tearing him up from the inside. He’s made it onto a small side road, leading trough a forested area. There aren’t any other cars within view and the isolation feels freeing. He screams. Loud and ragged and long. Until his throat is raw. Agonizing. He pulls over, breathing heavily. The car is suddenly far too small. Michale slams the car door shut. Hard. The sound is deafening in the otherwise tranquil quiet of the roadside. He feels wound up, restless. Like an impending explosion with no outlet. He walks to the other side of the car, to get away from the road. He paces back and forth along his car, a few steps each way, not really knowing what he’s supposed to do with himself. He wants, he needs, to do something. He pulls at his hoodie, pulls at his hair, chews his lip and kicks the soft earth at the top of the ditch separating the road and the forest. Then the fight leaves him, as if all the pressure suddenly erupted. But no explosion has rocked his world, so he lets out a deep sigh and slumps against the side of his car in defeat. He hangs his head, pushes his glasses back up his nose so that they don’t slip off his face. The stinging is back behind his eyes, threatening to spill over into sobs. The anger is gone. All that’s left is sadness. Loneliness. He feels lost. Like Jeremy must. As soon as he thinks the name, a twig snaps within the forest in front of him. He whips his head up at the sound. His eyes catch movement before the forest stills again. The momentary life ebbing always as it regains the air of stillness the warm autumn air instills. Maybe it’s the pent up energy in him. Maybe it’s because of what his mind is full of. Maybe he’s just plain desperate. He moves forward without really thinking about it. He skids down the side of the shallow ditch, climbs up the other side in three long strides. And then he runs. Chasing something he can’t see or hear. But he knows it’s there. 

He stumbles over a root, his foot sinking trough the soft moss, knee bending to catch himself. He can feel his pant leg getting wet, and as he looks down to inspect the situation, someone approaches.   
“Michael.” says that someone, in a far too familiar voice. One he hasn’t heard in far too long. He looks up.   
“Jeremy?” He whispers. Disbelief on his face. Because yes, that is Jeremy. Standing in front of him, hand outstretched to help pull him from the moss. His eyes are large and brilliant green. Michael can’t look away. He looks as if he never left. Like he leapt out of Michaels memories, not a single scratch. Pristine clothes. His hair is even the same length. He smells like a graveyard, newly turned wet soil and burning candles.  
“Hi.” Jeremy says, a smile stretching across his face. As if he’s so overjoyed seeing Michael again. Michael can’t help but match it with one of his own.   
“Hey!” He practically shouts, glee in his voice. Leg forgotten. Jeremy chuckles at him, eyes crinkling and the sun illuminating his red hair. The reality of the situation slams into Michael like a lightning strike.   
“Where have you been?” He demands, still not reaching for the offered hand. Still one foot stuck in the moss, leaning on his knee. He can feel the cold sleeping trough the fabric.   
“What do you mean?” Jeremy asks, innocent. Michael feels the rage building back up.   
“You’ve been gone for a year! Where were you! We were so worried.” he tells Jeremy. He wants to shout the words but the stillness of the forest around him hals him, his voice coming softer than he intends to.  
“I’ve been looking for you.” he adds on, a desperate tone to his voice. Jeremy cocks his head to the side, smile gone, but eyes still bright with so much life Michael could cry.   
“I’ve been right here.” he says. Michael could scream if there weren’t so many different words stuck in his throat. If the silence of the forest wasn’t so deafening, so all encompassing.  
“Here?” he manages to choke out anyway. Jeremy giggles a little.  
“That’s what I said.” he says, nodding a little. His hand is still outstretched.   
“What does that-? No, you know what, whatever. Just…Jeremy, let’s go home.” he says, softly. Begging. He’s even on his knee. He could laugh if he wasn’t so focused on the boy in front of him. Jeremys smile falls away completely for the first time, a small frown gracing his features. His eyes dim just a little. Michael takes his hand.  
“Please.” he begs. He gazes into those bright green eyes. Not knowing what he’s looking for. Deep down already knowing he won’t find it anyway.  
“It’s so quiet here. So peaceful.” Jeremy says, sounding far away. His hand in Michaels is warm, and dry. Soft smooth skin, and just underneath Michael can feel the faintest heartbeat. He feels his own beat in time with that rhythm, gets lost in it, until Jeremy says,  
“Stay.” Michael stares at him. It’s a simple word, implying a simple request.   
“W-what?” Michael manages to stutter out, caught off guard as he is. Jeremy is smiling again, beaming really. Michael has missed this, he has, but something holds him back.  
“You should stay here, with me.” Jeremy explains, even though it was clear what he meant from the start. Th request is still an odd one.  
“I-” Michael begins, then stops, lost for words. How can he answer to such a request? It sounds so simple but it’s so complicated and nothing makes sense anymore. The forest is so still, the trees seem to go on forever, Michael can’t make out the canopy above, but the light breaking trough the leaves in fragments is warm, like summer. The air is sweet with the scent of wildflowers.  
“Everything just, stops. It’s quiet here, and calm You just, stop, for a while. And everything is good. And you don’t have to worry.” Jeremy says, persuades, tempts him. It sounds like heaven, in some odd way. It sounds like what Jeremy had wanted. Was it god enough to leave behind everything for.  
“Jere.” Michael says, because he has nothing else left to say. Just a name, just his name, the beginning and the end of everything he knows in this moment.   
“Stay with me.” Jeremy repeats, placing his other hand on top of Michaels, effectively cradling his hand. He feels the beat more prominently now. Steady. Calm. Michael stares at their hands, then he looks back up into Jeremys eyes. The sunshine spins golden threads trough his hair, and Michael has never seen anything as beautiful as him.  
“Alright.” Michael whispers. Jeremys smile softens, and he sinks to his knees in front of Michael, into that soft damp moss. The scent of earth grows stronger. Jeremy takes Michaels other hand too, laces their fingers together. Michael can’t take his eyes away from him. The dampness creeps further up his pant leg. Jeremy leans in, as if he’s about to whisper a secret into Michaels ear.  
“I’m so glad you found me.” he admits, indeed sounding pleased. It makes Michael smile.  
“I never gave up.” he promises, Jeremy nods. The scent of earth overpowers the scent of smoke, the moss creeps ever upward.  
“I believe you.” Jeremy promises back. Then he raises his right hand, bringing Michaels left hand up with it. He untangles their fingers one by one until only their little fingers are hooked together.  
“I’ll never get lost again.” he swears.  
“I’ll find you anyway.” Michael swear back. Jeremy smiles, then giggles. Michael can’t stifle a giggle of his own. He feels tired, exhausted really. His legs have gone numb, but they’re warm. He blinks once, slowly. Struggling to open his eyes again once they’ve closed. He leans his elbows on the moss, gently.   
“Are you tired?” Jeremy asks him. Michael only nods, feeling the warmth envelope his shoulders.  
“Don’t worry, you can sleep soon.” Jeremy consoles. He leans forward, places a gentle kiss on Michaels forehead. Black is creeping into Michaels vision. He’s so warm, so comfortable. He leans his cheek on the moss. It smells fresh. He yawns, breathing in long and deep, and then the dark and the warmth surrounds him. He can feel Jeremy right in front of him in the darkness. Their knees knock against each other. Jeremy pulls at their joined hands until Michael is laying down, and then Jeremy lays down too. He scoots closer, closer, until Michael can wrap his arms around him. Pull him close.  
“Sleep?” Michael asks, trough the comfortable haze.  
“Now we sleep.” Jeremy reassures him, nuzzling his face into Michael chest. Clinging onto the fabric of his hoodie.  
“And when we wake up?” Michael asks, voice quiet, but still it echoes slightly.  
“We do whatever we want.” Jeremy tells him, and Michael nods, burying his nose in those red curls. He falls asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this on my phone for the most part  
> if you made it to the end, thanks for reading
> 
> i'm over at @actual-cryptid-leshy on tumblr  
> ((i promise i'm still working on GLITCH))


End file.
